Surface
by CardioQueen
Summary: 3.103.12. Bang.


She watched quietly from the doorway, her heart aching for George as the nurse removed the tubes from his father's lifeless body, his family's cries still echoing through her head.

Cristina shoved away the feelings of sadness, tucking them deep into her being and swallowed hard as she watched George choke back tears as he looked up to her, and advanced slowly towards her, grief overcoming his usually innocent expressions.

His voice was low, almost unrecognizable, "You have a man...a good man, who loves you just down that hall who's heart is still beating."

She nodded, "I can talk to him later, George."

"If this isn't an example of the fact that there might not be a later...if this, if seeing this doesn't make you think twice about the game that you're playing with him? Then you truly are a robot." He walked away from her, back to his father's side.

She looked at him for a moment, anger searing through her at first, then sadness again.

Wasn't it obvious enough that she felt bad for him? That she was actually _trying_ to be there for him?

Of course, that seemed to be the case with anybody that she tried to show emotion for.

That she tried to show that she was there for them, that she was sticking.

Bitterness filled her as she thought of Burke.

How could he be so damn angry at her to give her the silent treatment for two weeks because she was doing everything in her power to give him the career her valued so much, to give him back the work he valued so much that he made point to tell her.

She tried to lie to herself for a while, that him saying that his hands were the only thing of value to him didn't hurt.

But every time they kissed, every night before they fell asleep, and every morning that she woke up, it was the first thing that crossed her mind.

That she wasn't good enough for him.

That he had to be Preston Burke.

So she tried to give him what he wanted, tried to give it all back to him, to make him happy.

To make herself good enough.

And all she did was push him farther away in the process.

She walked away from the room and looked towards the nurse's station as a hustle of people ran down the hall, the rumble of the code cart following their footsteps and her heart froze as she realized it was in Burke's direction that they were running.

Cristina Yang didn't believe in coincidence, and she didn't believe in the power of words, but her heart stopped as she stepped towards his room, behind the code team, her pace quickening the closer she got to the room.

They rounded the corner past his room and she leaned against the wall outside his room, crossing her arms over her stomach, fighting the waves of nausea crashing against it.

There were signs around her, signs that she should just give up. Give in.

Let him win.

She peered into the room and found him sleeping, and she felt a little more at ease as she studied the rise and fall of his chest, his hand resting lightly across it.

So what if he still had a tremor?

At least he's alive.

She moved across the room quietly, calm, words that she could say running through her head, feelings scrambling her nerves unbidden as she came to his side.

There was so much that could be said. So much that she'd wanted to say before, that she couldn't say before, that seemed impossible to say now.

She kicked the side of the bed jerking him from his peaceful nap, "Move over."

He narrowed his eyes at her, still silent, unmoving.

"I said move over." She repeated, her voice shaky at best, and he moved over, and she laid next to him, her body stiff at first, but as she made contact with him, she melted against him, memories of many nights in his arms flooding her, breaking her resolve.

Burke moved his hand down her side lightly, then retracted it, reminded by the fact that he was still angry with her. Or at least he thought he was and he cocked his head to the side, studying her closely.

"Look, I don't care what's happened. I don't care that you said stuff that was wrong, and I don't care if I did anything wrong. I don't care about this stupid game that we're playing. I don't care anymore." She started, choking back emotions, "After Denny died, I came here, to you...to your side, and I told you that I didn't ever want you to die."

"Yes." A word freed itself from his lips.

"Don't talk. I'm not done. You haven't said anything to me for weeks, so it's my turn to talk." She snapped at him. "I told you that I didn't want you to die, and it's not what I meant."

He raised his eyebrows in curiousity as she bit her lip for a moment, her eyes watering before him, and he brought his hand to her curls, running his fingers through them as she fought the torrent within her.

She continued, her voice no more than a whisper, her body aching under his touch, "What I meant to say was..." She couldn't bring forth the words.

"I know what you meant to say."

"No. You don't. And even if you did, I have to say it. Because you're alive, and I have to say it, so shut up and let me say it." A tear spilled from her eye as she wrestled with her resolve, trying to tear down that last little bit that kept her from saying what she felt.

That kept her from fully giving herself to him.

"Say it." His hand came to rest at her side, a firm grip, something to hold her steady.

"What I meant to say was..." She sighed, "Dammit. What I meant to say was that...Burke, I love you."

She stifled a sob as the last bit of her steely resolve came crumbling down around her and laid her head against his chest as he wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her tight. "If I would've said it before, none of this would've happened, and you wouldn't have ever said it..."

The blame she placed on herself was startling to him, even more startling though to him was the things she was saying, "Said what?"

She looked up to him, her face reddened and tear streaked, "I only asked about your hand because you said that was what was of the most value to you...and maybe if I would've said it before, maybe if I could've just made myself say it before.." Her voice trailed off, "It doesn't matter. You're fine and we're fine...right? We're fine?"

He kissed her forehead, and pulled her head back down to his chest, "We're fine."

There was so much more to be said.

In those few moments, they had only scratched the surface, only begun to tackle the long road to recovery what they had lost in such a short period of time. But it was a start.

There were still things to be said, arguments to be won and lost. But those things could be said later, those fights could be carried out at home.

They would find their way out of the darkness eventually, but for now, they lay in each other's arms, content.

Whole.

"Cristina?"

"Yeah?" She sniffed, unmoving against his chest, the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat soothing her weary soul.

"I love you too, more than anything."

"Anything?" She questioned her voice cracking from the expulsion of emotions from her body.

"Anything."


End file.
